


Queer Eye For The Straight Actor

by astoryandasong



Category: Band of Brothers RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-12
Updated: 2011-12-12
Packaged: 2017-10-27 06:29:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/292647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astoryandasong/pseuds/astoryandasong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I totally cannot remember why I chose that title! But anyway, I think this was actually the first Ron/Damian on the internet. I wrote this in 2004, make of that what you will...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Queer Eye For The Straight Actor

The road to hell is paved with good intentions.  
Well, Damian's road to hell was actually paved with empty Stella Artois bottles and a joint, but the end result was the same.  
********

He and Ron started sharing a house a week into filming and found the arrangement to be of mutual benefit (Damian cleaned, Ron cooked, and the dishwasher did the washing up). They were two guys with good jobs and nice girls waiting for them, and all was right with the world.  
Except.  
All of the 'comradely' affection between Nixon and Winters was starting to feel a tad homo-erotic, and he wasn't sure if he was intrigued or panicked by it. It wasn't as though he could mention it to Ron- he'd only known the bloke a few months, and he *hated* talking about personal stuff at the best of times, never mind walking up to Ron and saying  
'Hey mate, our characters act as if they're in gay love. How do you feel about that?'  
It was like every man's nightmare multiplied, and he'd only known the bloke a few months. Besides, he was always wittering on about his girlfriend back in the states. Damian had seen her once when she visited the house, and she was really very pretty, and she had a nice voice.  
Even when she was shouting at Ron with it, because Ron was too knacked from filming some of the action scenes to even consider sex. Spirit willing, but body just not co-operating.  
Damian has decided to dislike her.  
*****  
He thinks about sex far too much these days. It seems to be *everywhere* these days; in Ron's smile, Kirk's voice, the way Donnie's uniform slips smartly on him. He has a psychosomatic ache in his fingers from holding on to his shaky heterosexuality. The murky waters of rampant bisexuality are below, and he's trying his best not to fall in, whilst attempting to come up with a decent metaphor and failing at that too.  
*****

So getting drunk with Ron on the couch was probably a terribly bad idea, really, but he can't bring himself to care at the moment. They're watching old Drop the Dead Donkey re-runs and he's trying to explain the humour to Ron.  
They're also very, very close, hot and drunk.  
He has to get up, now, or he's going to end up in Ron's lap, or he's going to keep *thinking* about being in Ron's lap and give himself away.  
"I need another beer. Want one?"

"Nah. I'm good right now." Ron's voice is drunk, too, and this is all very bad and wrong.

He gets up and goes into their kitchen, probably the least romantic locale in the whole house- lino floors, harsh overhead lighting, and not a single comfy sofa in sight. He gets another bottle out of the fridge and resists sticking his head in- it's so blissfully cool.  
That's when he feels the hand on his shoulder, jumps a foot in the air and yells like a girl.

“The ginger ninja startled by a drunk American. The fans will be so disappointed.” Ron’s laughing at him, his eyes crinkled up and his teeth flashing.  
Damian wishes the floor would swallow him up and he could die, but he just mutters,

“Don’t call me ginger.”

Pops the top off his new Stella and turns around, but can’t get away because Ron is right there up close, pushing him against the horrible Formica worktop, hands on either side of his body, hemming him in.  
Oh, Mary Mother of God.

Ron is hard.  
***********

“All this homo-eroticism is driving me nuts, how about you?”

Maybe Ron isn’t as drunk as Damian thought he was, and it’s a relief. But still, the only noise he can manage is a startled mmph because Ron wasn’t really waiting for an answer, and he’s kissing Damian so sloppily and downright dirtily that he couldn’t form any decent words now if he tried. It so fucking hot he can’t quite believe it, the stubble and the tongue in his mouth and they’re thrusting against each other like they just can’t help themselves, and maybe they can’t.

They somehow slide to the floor, and his hands are under Ron’s t-shirt, looking and finding his nipples. He tugs at the shirt until Ron lets him take it off, and immediately puts his mouth to one nipple, scraping his teeth over it and laving it with his tongue.

“Hey, play fair,” Ron pants. “Yours has to come off too.”

It seems fair play, so he lifts his arms and feels Ron’s hands slide up his ribcage before the shirt comes off over his head.  
Then Ron starts kissing him again, and his dick hot-wires his brain. Ron lays back and rolls them over so that Damian’s on the floor and Ron’s on top, pushing down both their shorts (thank god we’re both slobs, Damian thinks.) So they’re both naked and Ron’s on top of him, a heavy, slick weight bearing down on him, and he can feel Ron’s erection moving against him, and he wonders if it would be terribly gay of him to give Ron a blowjob, because fuck, he wants to.  
But moving is just a pipe dream because Ron is here. On top of him, and its all Damian can do to wrap his legs around Ron’s hip to draw him closer.  
Ron’s talking, low, breathy. He’s panting too, and groaning, and Damian thinks it might be the sexiest sound he’s heard in oh, possibly ever.  
“Oh god Damian so good, I want to fuck you so fucking bad…”  
The thought of Ron fucking him is enough to send him over the edge, hands scrabbling at Ron’s back, bucking so hard it takes them off the floor.  
Ron grunts, bears down and comes hard all over Damian a few seconds later, before lying down next to him and falling deeply asleep.   
******

Being a man and thus prone to doing the very same thing, Damian can’t summon up any venom at Ron’s prompt assignation in dreamland. Instead he lies on the now very cold lino and gazes up at the ceiling wondering who in the hell invented artex and if its possible to have them court martialled and shot for crimes against interior decorating.   
Ron sniffles in his sleep and he feels the nag of worry, but pushes it away, closes his eyes, and dreams of his heterosexuality dissolving like fake snow.


End file.
